


Bandersnatch One Shots

by Xoxo_Sadie21



Category: Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018)
Genre: F/M, either from your anguish or your elation, either way, feel free to pay me with your tears, mwuahahahahaha, yes i am back with some more new content for y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 23:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xoxo_Sadie21/pseuds/Xoxo_Sadie21





	1. Safeguard | Stefan Butler

You knocked. Once, twice, three times. You waited five more minutes until the silence became just too much to bear. With chaotic movements, you turned the knob and the door creaked open. The first thing you noticed was the smell; it reminded you of your best friend. Stefan. You smiled at the thought of him, but it soon faded when you remembered the reason you were here. 

Stefan hadn’t been picking up your phone calls, wasn’t responding to your frantic text messages. You were beyond worried by now. Nothing seemed to belay your fears or settle the heavy constriction in your heart. 

“Stef?” You called out into the dimly lit one-story house. 

Nothing. Not even the birds were making any sounds when it was usually their life’s mission to annoy the crap out of you with their insistent chirping. 

You stepped further into the house and shut the door behind you, mind in a motion of a whirlwind. As if the thundering thoughts that struck against the base of your skull would explode any minute. You shuddered and chewed nervously on your bottom lip. 

 _Breathe_. 

“Stefan?” You called out to him, but louder this time. His name on your lips wasn’t foreign, it was familiar and it knew its place. He told you he always loved it when you called his name, as cheesy as that sounded. You would blush and turn away, your feelings for him blooming at the rate of a thousand butterflies being set free into the corrupted world around them. 

To anyone else, if you were to describe this feeling to them, they would merely laugh in your face. Tell you that you were too young to know what actual love was, what it meant. But you didn’t need their permission, their opinions. You had Stefan and his words to tie a tight knot around your hands, to keep you steady and consistent. You didn’t need anyone but him. 

That’s why you stayed. It was the only reason. 

“Mr. Butler?” Your voice echoed through the living room and steadily bounced off the walls of the kitchen as you traveled through it. Was he even here? 

When you reached the door that connected to his room, you pushed it open since it was slightly ajar. The room smelled even more of him, and it was almost completely covered in darkness, the only source of light coming from the clock on his nightstand. 

A minuscule of movement caught your attention to the left and your eyes immediately shifted to it. It was a rustle beneath the thick black blankets, and underneath it, all was a fairly large lump with yellow-socked feet poking out just shy of a few inches. 

And just like that, the heavy weight upon your chest was released slowly then all at once. It was like coming up for fresh air, your lungs feeling as if they were doused in ice cold water. 

“Stefan?” 

Your voice, so timid and soft, caused something to resonate within him and within milliseconds, his head popped up from having been shoved under his pillow. 

Almost instantly, you noticed the dark circles that infected the areas below his eyes. Heavy bags, sleep deprivation glaring right at you. His skin, which used to glow angelically, was now pale and that only highlighted his freckles even more. You couldn’t deny the fact that, despite the way he looked now– with that phantasmal and vapid outer shell of his– he still took your breath away. 

You heaved a sigh and moved to stand next to his bed, but his dead-like expression remained the same. “I was worried about you,” you knelt down, eyeing him with trepidation. You had the dire urge to touch his face, to have him curl into you so you could do nothing but comfort him. It was obvious; you knew why he was acting this way, you just didn’t know how you were going to fix it. 

He looked at you with those big doe eyes of his, and you melted once again. They were bloodshot and irritated around the edges. It was then you had come to the conclusion that he was crying. 

“We don’t have to talk,” you whispered it sweetly, laying your forearms on his bed and then resting your chin there so you could still look at him. He had that glazed look in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure if it were affection or sadness. It didn’t matter because as soon as the first tear slipped free, your thumb had swiped it away with a gentleness that you only had for him. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, (Name).” He croaked, his bottom lip trembling. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you made the space between you smaller and climbed onto his bed. You lifted the blankets up and slid underneath them, next to Stefan. He burrowed his face in the crook of your neck, his warmth instantly consuming you whole. You held him in your arms, and then he cried with the force of a thousand waves crashing against the shore. His cries were child-like and raspy, but you knew that he wanted to scream from all of the pent of frustration, the anger. 

In fact, you wanted him to scream. If only it meant he that would be okay. 

You carded your fingers through his hair and played with the hair on the back of his neck. With your cheek pressed ever so softly to the top of his head, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was at all help. 

“I just–” hiccup “don’t know what–” another hiccup “to do.” 

And he repeated those words a couple more times, the strained sensation that clouded his thoughts deprived him of speaking too quickly. It was the most rudimentary thing in the world, and yet, he was too weak to do it. 

“How can I help? I’ll do anything,” you kissed the crown of his head. You held him tighter, “ _Just tell me what to do_.” 

He lifted his head, only slightly to where you could see his tear-filled eyes. It was almost enough for you to break down with him because his pain hurt you just as much as it did him. There were always times when you knew situations like these would only get more difficult, but you weren’t someone who gave up so easily. When he cried, you cried. When he hurt, you hurt. It wasn’t about you anymore, you couldn’t focus on yourself  _anymore_. Stefan was your main priority. 

To care for him was like second nature for you. 

“Can you stay here… with me?” His cheeks reddened, and despite being together for two months now, he still found that vulnerability was and always would be something he could never fake with you. 

“I’ll stay forever if you asked me to.”


	2. Come Back to Me | Stefan Butler

“You’re a good man, Stefan.”

“Am I?”

He was. God, he was so much more than a good man. He was everything you wanted to be, everything you desired to be loved by. There wasn’t anything that could make you think otherwise, not even when he went off the deep end, not when you were sure that he just didn’t find you interesting anymore– when his full focus was his game and nothing else. At the end of the night, when you were side by side and he held you as if he were preserving you, it was then you knew that he would always come back to you. 

“Definitely.” 

“How do you know?” 

You always knew. When it came to Stefan, you knew him possibly more than he knew himself. You made sure to remind him of that every so often because sometimes he tended to forget.  

“I always know.” 

Then he would give you that boyish grin, where his lips would curl upwards and it would show in his eyes. The loveliest art were his eyes, a beautiful shade of green with little specks of yellow in them. Looking at them made you feel superior in a way, and that was only because they would follow your every movement. You were like a magnet– you were their lifeline. 

You were  _his_  lifeline. 

Regardless of your parents’ altercations with the boy, you never wavered. They told you that you loved him too much, and you agreed. It was obvious that he loved you the same, possibly even more than you did, and you knew. There were times when you would catch him looking at you as if he would take a bullet for you, jump off a bridge if you asked him to. Your best friend caught onto it first– she once told you it was unsettling, but you merely laughed. It didn’t bother you. The amount of devotion he held for you  _never_  bothered you. 

“You always see the better in me, even when you know of all the terrible things I’ve done.”

And perhaps that was why he kept you– maybe it was because you never strayed too far from his reach. He knew you would always come back, you would always be there to pull him from the depths of his despair. He knew and that was the reason he did the things he did. He did them because you were always there to give him your unrestricted forgiveness. 

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Yet you forgave me beyond that.”

You couldn’t deny the fact that he was right. You gave him endless chances without a second thought, without arguing about the fact that maybe– just maybe he didn’t deserve them. 

But he did. 

“Because you are more than your demons.” 

Stefan wasn’t just any person, wasn’t just someone you cared for. He was an infinite passion, desperate, ethereal touches. He was a blooming lotus in a world made of wilting roses. The stars in the sky belonged in his eyes– he was the ruler of the constellations, the whole universe. 

“I don’t deserve you, (Name).”

“You do.” 

That’s why you forgave him more than most. 

Nothing made sense without him. 

( _”Breathe, breathe, breathe_ ,  _ **breathe**_ – _”_ )

Shortage of breath. A fading light. Unmoving. 

You squeezed his hand, nothing. 

“Stefan?” You gave him a gentle tug, his body jerking slightly with your movement. Nothing. 

What happened?

Everything was fine. Dr. Haynes was just speaking to him, and he answered a mere minute before with a mellifluous voice despite the soreness under his eyes– they looked so bloodshot. 

“Stef?” Mr. Butler knelt down next to him, setting a hand on his knee, giving it a shake. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“We were just talking,” Dr. Haynes protested with a strained voice. Her bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes watered. She slapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the oncoming cries of disbelief. 

_No_. 

( _”Why isn’t he **moving** –”_)

You shook his hand once more, looking away from him as if the sight of him so pale and cold made you sick to your stomach. You cringed then squeezed his hand once more, airways closing in, bile rising steadily up, up,  _up_ –

_NO_.

( _”He’s not dead!”_ )

The room grew cold. You couldn’t feel his warmth anymore, and you couldn’t force yourself to look at him. Not like this. Because if you looked that meant that–

It meant that he was really gone.

With quaking hands, you brought his hands– his cold, cold hands– up to your lips. You would warm them up. 

One kiss after the other was pressed to his hands, to his fingers. They remained cold. 

“He’s cold,” you whispered it, but something frayed the edges of your words, something unfamiliar, something inhuman. You closed your eyes and the tears fell, one by one, down your cheeks. You blew on his hands, “No, no– he’s freezing. Get him a blanket!”

You couldn’t look. It would tear you apart, from the inside. 

It meant that–

You peaked through blurry vision, eyes wide and desperate at the sight of him. His chin had dipped low, almost touching his still chest. It was enough to tear straight through you ruthlessly. 

“He’s too cold.” You moaned through clenched teeth, tears now rapidly streaming down your cheeks. “He needs a blanket, or, or–”

Mr. Butler caught your other hand before you could touch his youthful cheeks, “(Name)–”

“ _ **NO**_!” Your voice became frantic as the despair rippled from the once peaceful place inside of you. Nothing made sense anymore. With every last bit of your existence, you tried to cling to him as best as you could, but the more you wrestled, the more you struggled in his father’s hold, and your limbs threatened to give out from beneath you. 

“He– he  _needs_  me!” With one final tug, you tore your wrist from the older man’s hold, but in the process, you fell to your knees. The floor swayed below you, and your head felt heavy. Everything inside of you was a boiling pot of pure rage. 

This wasn’t peaceful at all. 

This was  _cruel_.

( _”Please, please_ _ **come back to me** –”_)

Something erupted from the deepest, darkest parts of you, and an animalistic roar of utter abandonment– something raw and agonizing– cracked the unsteady earth below you. 

 


	3. Crescendo | Stefan Butler

_Breathe.”_

_“Just listen to the sound of my voice.”_

_“Breathe, Stefan.”_

He did as you told, starting with smaller intakes, and it was enough. It was working. If you had the power to take away his stress, you would have done so with a snap of your fingers. Nothing hurt more than seeing your lover in pain, and your panic only elevated when you noticed the expression on his face.

You told him many times that he needed to take a break, but being the stubborn man that he was, he kept working and working and working  _and working_. 

Two hours later, there was a startling boom followed by a groan of irritation. It was enough to catch your attention, and it was enough to send your heart spiraling down to the pit of your stomach. 

Your head snapped over to the sound, and there he was, hunched over with shaking shoulders as if he was breathing too quickly or having troubles with doing so.

“Stef?” You swung your legs over the side of his bed and waited hesitantly in that spot. He didn’t move or say anything to you that would belay your fears. You gulped thickly, “Darling, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

He shuddered, letting out a strangled noise. It sounded like he was trying to hold back a whimper. 

You moved over to him with slow steps and softly touched his shoulder, only for him to flinch at your touch. “I’m sorry, sorry.”

He lifted his face from the previous position of it veiled behind his hands, and then he looked at you. Tears slowly trailed down his pale, freckled cheeks. The look of pure hopelessness covered his face, and it was like a shot to the chest. 

Your face twisted as the panic doubled, “Tell me how to help.”

“I don’t– I just don’t know how– I can’t– I’m not–” his breathing labored immensely, his shoulders shook more noticeably, and the tears in his eyes overflowed. 

As he went to lower his head, you stopped him and then ever so carefully pulled him into you. Almost immediately, his arms circled around you, clinging to you like a scared child. Since you were standing and he was sitting, his face was burrowed into your stomach. 

Stefan was never overly affectionate and needy with you, so the gesture took you off-guard. “Oh, right,” you whispered hoarsely as your eyes slowly widened. He was undeniably warm and you would do anything to stay in this position for a minute longer. With a tremulous intake of breath, you wrapped your arms around him and eased him into your middle. “Okay, breathe. Um, focus on my voice and– and just breathe, my love.”

When you noticed no slight change in his breathing patterns, you began to worry. You screwed your eyes shut before coming to the conclusion that you needed to get closer to him. That was going to be hard since you didn’t know what his boundaries were. 

“Stef, I’m gonna bring you over to the bed, alright? Walk with me.” 

He stood without complication, without defiance. He moved along with you, but he kept his face hidden into the tender spot of your stomach. It was like taking care of a child except he was letting you do the heavy lifting without a protest.

Your calves hit the edge of his bed, and you sat down, but instead of sitting up, Stefan urged you softly backward with his head. He was easy with you, and even more so when he heard you let out a sound of surprise. Curling into you wasn’t foreign– Stefan was a fan of doing that, and especially to you– but this time it was different. It was as if your heart– no, your soul– was tethered to his. 

An almost inaudible  _oof_  fluttered past your lips and he continued to curl further into you, the warmth from his cheeks heating you to the core. His fingers ever so softly slid cautiously up and under your shirt, his fingertips grazed your side. That was your weak spot and the boy knew it, too. 

A sound of blithe crawled up your throat, but you had a desperate urge to turn the attention back onto him. This wasn’t supposed to be centered around you, not when he was the one who needed the comfort, the affection. Despite the unadulterated puppy love that you shared for one another, you wanted to focus on him and help him with every fiber of your being. 

“My heart,” you crooned, tilting his chin up so he would look at you. His eyes, that previously had been filled to the brim with tears, were now filled with adoration with the exception of them being bloodshot. “Relax. You shouldn’t be overworking yourself so much. It’s not healthy.” 

He nodded. It was the only thing he could think to do besides stare at you with that glazed over expression, the one that made him look like he was hypnotized by you. Which, admittedly, you caught him doing  _countless_  times. Not that it bothered you because it didn’t, and you don’t think it ever could. 

Reaching over with careful movements while being able to notice that his breathing had leveled, and he didn’t look as panicked as he had seconds ago, you wrapped your hand around his and brought it up to your lips. Spreading his fingers, you leaned over and pressed sweet little-debauched kisses on the tips of them. 

A look, so mesmerizing, so crazed with affection, extremely insurmountable to anything else, spread across his face. 

And it was all worth it.


	4. See You Soon(Part 1) | Stefan Butler

Today was going to be different. You don’t know how or why, but you could only feel that it was. It was like a fleeting sensation; something so incredibly close, yet too far away to really touch or comprehend. 

The nerves in your body didn’t dissipate, and the only became more intense when you arrived at work. 

As soon as you sat down, your boss’ presence was nearing your desk. Your fingers stopped tapping on the worn out keyboard, and you swiveled around to face him. The other two figures on either side of him hadn’t captured your attention yet. 

“Yes, Thakur?” You leaned into your chair, crossing one leg over the other and then crossing your arms over your chest. With unsteady movements, you blew a strand of your unruly hair out from your face only for it to fall right back over your eyes. You gave up altogether, figuring it wasn’t worth the embarrassment.

Only when you noticed the other two figures next to him was when you hurriedly uncrossed your legs and sat up straighter, clearing your throat. More importantly, your focus had taken a certain interest in the person who seemed to be just as curious about you as you were of him. 

A sudden rush of memories flickered through your mind at an incredible speed, and it was as if you were reliving another life. A life that, perhaps, wasn’t yours. But in each image, each memory, one thing was irrefutable. 

You knew this person. 

This brown haired, freckled boy, who held an almost overwhelming, archaic pansophy in his green eyes.

It took your breath away. 

“I want you to meet someone.” There was a certain glimmer in Thakur’s eyes as he held his hand out to the side, “This is–”

“Tommy?” 

Colin, who seemed to be smirking at the assembling exchange, glanced between you and the one who held your attention. He had the look of someone who held the secret to the universe, a build-up of suppressed eagerness. 

Mr. Thakur shook his head with a slight frown on his face at the misunderstanding. “No,” he let out a hearty laugh and urged the boy to look at you which couldn’t be difficult since he was already looking at you. “Stefan, this is–”

“(Name) (Last name),” he gulped, taking you by surprise when he outstretched his hand to you with a child-like infatuation in his eyes. “I know who you are. I– I’ve been following you through your gaming career for months now. It’s– It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

To say you were flattered would have been an understatement, but you weren’t able to get past the odd familiarity about him. When you slipped your hand through his, you couldn’t deny that the warmth of his skin sent yours alight with a strange and indescribable sensation. It felt like a thousand tiny sparks fired off at the contact of his skin mingling with yours. 

You pulled back, flustered. “M-my apologies,” his face dropped for a split second as if he were trying to comprehend something, but the smile returned short and he was smiling once again. “You just– you reminded me of someone… I–” your eyes caught those of Colin’s and the bastard was grinning like a fool.  You glanced back at Stefan, “I must’ve…” you cleared your throat once more and gripped onto your tingling hand with the other, trying to hide the fact that something was disrupting your thought process. 

Stefan grinned shyly at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down to represent his sudden fondness. “That’s alright,” he mused, his accent thick and pleasantly calming. “It was, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, this time a toothy grin blossoming from his face. “It was such an honor to meet you, (Name). I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

He said it like he knew it was a proven fact. 

“I’ll say.” Colin chuckled under his breath. 

As Thakur and Colin made their way to the showing room, Stefan lingered behind with innocent intentions, eyes as bright as the pinkness on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” you whispered breathless, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes before he followed after them. “I’m counting on it.” 


	5. There You Are(Part 2) | Stefan Butler

Memories. They were a reminder of what happened to you in the past. Either happy or sad, when you experienced loss or love. Memories were there to keep you rooted to reality, when you didn’t feel you were actually there. 

In this moment, you couldn’t tell the difference. You couldn’t be sure if you were dreaming or if it were real. 

The images, the sounds, the emotions you felt, they were all so surreal. Anticipation, excitement, and you felt them so strongly, so intense that it was difficult to comprehend them all at once. They were so exact, so desperate to fill you up and leave you gasping for breath. 

You found yourself standing by some rusty train tracks, watching closely as they rattled unsteadily. It took you a minute to search your surroundings, but when you could clearly make it out you were standing at the edge. Something wet hit your cheeks, and you reached up to touch, only to lower your hand to see that you were crying. 

_Why were you crying?_

The sound of a horn echoed through your ears, and you turned just in time to catch the sight of an oncoming train. You inhaled and stepped back carefully, your shiny black shoes scraping against pavement. It was as if your body moved on its own. 

It was then you noticed the people around you, cheering and crying with pretty smiles on their faces. 

You looked around some more. What year was it? The clothes that they wore were old-fashioned. Your shoes, they also looked old. Maybe early 1940s.

The cheers grew louder, and your chest tightened. An odd sense of familiarity washed over you and you looked up, eyes following the various colored train boxes. Then it slowly came to a stop, and everything played in slow motion.

The taste of victory was bitter on your tongue, and it left you feeling violated. Your breathing staggered and your palms grew sweaty, and everything felt warm. With the calescent sun beating ferociously down on you, it was hard to focus on more of your surroundings.

But despite the clamorous noise, the cheering, you were still able to hear that one voice. Your name on his lips was the single most angelic thing you had ever heard. 

“(Name)?” He touched your shoulder and your knees wobbled.

When you turned around, the sun’s rays became brighter and he stood at the end of it all. Undeterred by the cuts and bruises and the dirt and oil that covered his face, he was standing  _right there_. He was like a beacon of light and hope and all things uncorrupt. 

He smiled at you, and you swore you felt your soul leave your body and rush up to meet the hands of God himself.

“I waited for you, Tommy.” You croaked, feeling the tears in your eyes overflow once more. 

He nodded and took another step closer to you, “I know, sweetheart and I’m here,” His hands outstretched with hesitance as if he didn’t know your boundaries. “I’m right here.” 

You choked on a sob, gasping for air out of utter disbelief. He looked so real, his body was hunched slightly as if he’d been through the worst of it, and maybe he had. Maybe this was your reward. Was he truly there?

“Are you real?” It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless.

His smile became a bit brighter by your words, and his eyes–  _oh_ those wonderful eyes– were absolutely  _sunstruck_  by you. 

“I’m as real as you are, my love.” 

And just like that, your world turned cold and you weren’t staring at him anymore. Instead, you were staring at the blackness that engulfed you. 

You blinked back the tears that steadily streamed down your cheeks and let the darkness settle around you. Bright red numbers glared back at you as you turned to look at the clock on your nightstand. 

**3:15 A.M.**

_Great_ , you deadpanned. On the day you actually needed the sleep was when you were plagued by these perplexing dreams. Perplexing wasn’t the word you would use, it was more of an understatement if you were being honest. But in your sleep-deprived state, it was the only word you could come up with.

You sat up and tiredly rubbed at your face. You had four more hours until work, and four more hours until it was time to face Stefan. 

What were you going to tell him? _Hey, yeah. I’ve been having really weird dreams about you coming back from war!_  Absolutely  _not_. That wasn’t professional at all. 

Even despite the closeness you developed with him, you could almost consider him your best friend from the three months of knowing him. He was loyal, caring– too caring sometimes– and he always asked for your opinion before doing certain things. He didn’t even have to try, he was just  _himself_  around you. 

**7:00 A.M.**

In a hurry, you dashed out of your apartment with a piece of bread hanging halfway out of your mouth. Crumbs fell as you chewed hastily, trying to savor every last bit of your toast. Breakfast wasn’t always the best when you were in a hurry, but neither was waking up earlier than planned. 

Walking to work wasn’t a daily struggle as most people said it to be. Quite frankly, you enjoyed walking to work. Maybe it was the fact that you wore converse, and maybe it was because your clothing style wasn’t unveiled for the world to see. You liked to keep your wardrobe fitting yet unrevealing. 

When you reached the lobby, you became fidgety. You messed with your hair, took it out of its bun and then put it back up in a bun. The rubber bands on your wrists were due to break from how many times you kept snapping them. 

_Were you actually going to confess to Stefan? Was this the right thing to do?_

Perhaps you were wondering if the same things were happening to him also. Perhaps this wasn’t just your burden to bear.  _Perhaps_ –

“(Name)?”

You looked up and into the eyes of your main focus, breath hitching. He stood on the other side of the elevator– and since when did  _you_  get into the elevator? 

“Um,” you cleared your throat and fidgeted some more with the rubber bands. “Y-yes?”

“Are you going to come out?” There was a great amount of worry shining in those green eyes of his as he watched you carefully. 

Today Stefan wore a nice fitting black v-neck with black trousers– which were also very well  _fitting_. His hair was unkempt, looking as if he had just run his fingers through it only moments ago, something you wanted to do. 

 _No_. 

 _Stop thinking like that (Name)_.

“Right, sorry.” You gave him an awkward smile and then shuffled out of the elevator. Thoughts rampaged in your head, spinning, tugging, pulling, breaking, breaking,  _ **breaking**_ – 

“Are you alright? You seem a little–”

You turned around, cutting him off with such an abrupt demeanor that he was caught off-guard. “Can we talk? After work? In– In private?” 

Unbeknown to you, the proximity between you was enough to cause a momentary relapse in his thought process. His senses were all connected to you, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to take a step closer. He could smell your natural scent; coconut and vanilla, and the scent of  _you_. It was all so overwhelming. 

“Stef? You hearing me?” 

It was as if there was an unwavering battle fighting for dominance, for control over his body. Involuntarily, he had closed his eyes while he was drowning in your scent, and so he opened them, eyes fixating on you; the center of his gravity.

“Sorry?” He hadn’t heard a word you said.

**5:45 P.M.**

“(Name)?”

“Hmm?”

You tore your eyes away from your journal, slamming it quickly when you realized whose presence was near you. Stefan. Just the sight of him had your heart beating erratically in your chest, something you couldn’t control. 

“I’m off,” he gestured a thumb at the exit behind him, eyes never leaving yours. “Did you want to talk?”

“Oh, right,” you looked at the clock and sure enough it was time for you to go home, but not before having the chat with Stefan. You weren’t going to push yourself out of this one again. But neither did you want to talk to him in a place that was public, home would be nice. 

“How about we talk at my place? Over dinner?” You weren’t even thinking about how this must have sounded, how your words made Stefan react. The blush on his face went right over your head. 

“Dinner?” He gulped thickly, feeling his pulse quicken while you gathered your things. You gave him a nod and he swore if he were a robot, he would’ve shut down then and there. “Alright, that’s– that’s fine with me. Yeah. Dinner sounds lovely.”

You didn’t even notice, but he was floating on cloud nine. 

**8:00 P.M.**

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

You looked down at your watch, brows flying up at how uncanny his arrival time was. Even though he told you he wouldn’t be late, you still thought that he would be at least a little later than the actual time.

You sat your wine glass down on the table and walked over to the door. Breathe in and then breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe  _out_. 

You opened the door and came face to face with Stefan, the boy was  _glowing_. He held his hands behind his back as if he were holding something there, away and out from view. 

“You’re right on time.” A giggle fluttered past your lips, bubbly and musical. The corners of your eyes crinkled at the sight of him, and you couldn’t see it, but your smile was already the best thing he’d seen in his entire life.

“Here,” without a minute to exhale, he handed you a bouquet of white lilies. “I, um, bought them for– for you.”

You took them from him, hands skimming over his warm one. At the sight of the flowers, your heart soared. No one had ever gotten you flowers, the gesture was sweet. It was even sweeter when you looked up to find Stefan already watching you with a blush covering his cheeks. He looked so innocent standing there like that. 

“Wow,” you chuckled, your heart heavy in your chest. “That’s– that’s really sweet of you, Stefan. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you.” 

His cheeks grew impossibly redder within seconds and before he could reply, you had moved forward and brought him in for a hug. Your head was pressed to his chest, while your arms went around his middle. 

“Do you like them?”

You pulled away and smelled them, a smile rising to your cheeks. “They’re perfect,” you looked up at him through long lashes, breath hitching. “You’re perfect.”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “Look, Stefan. I need to talk to you, and you might not believe me–”

“I’ll always believe you.” He whispered just enough for you to hear, but not enough for you to react to it.

“–but I need you to bear with me, okay?” He nodded and you tugged on his sleeve, pulling him inside and then shutting the door behind him. His back hit the wall and he harrumphed from the impact. 

He was ready to hear what you had to say to him, it was all he thought about ever since you told him you needed to. Quite frankly, he couldn’t keep you out of his mind for more than five minutes– he figured you were just too intriguing to seclude you from his thoughts. When he watched you pace the floor ahead of him, biting and chewing on your nails in what was to be a habit of yours, he knew there was no way to force his focus from you. You were the perfect conundrum.

In his eyes, you were truly something else– something made of fairy tales– and maybe it was his heart talking, but he couldn’t help that it only ever talked about you. He just had no control over it. None.

Nor did he have control over what he did next. Right as you opened your mouth to speak, he leaned in and closed the distance between you. Whatever you were about to say was now aloof and non-existent. 

To say you were caught off-guard was an understatement.

Your lips craved his. They were warm and they glided over yours with ease, with perfect clarity, with a mission to keep you grounded. Although, that did little to no help when the flowers in your hand went crashing to the floor below you. Your eyes slowly screwed shut as did his, and his hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you so incredibly close.

“Wait,” you panted between kisses, “I– I think we knew–  _oh_ ,” you gasped when his hand slid a little lower to cup your ass and his lips sucked on the more sensitive spot of your neck. “That feels nice.”

As he continued to kiss and nip and pull you close, he managed to shed his coat. His hands were right back on you, pawing needily, gripping at the back of your thighs, trying to hike your leg upward. Your head felt fuzzy, your legs grew weak, your breathing was labored and sporadic.

When he had you in his arms with your thighs wrapped around his waist, you had to stop yourself. “Wait, Stefan. I need to tell you something,” you moaned, pulling his chin up so he could see you. His lips were swollen, and he had this dazed look in his eyes. And then slowly, that lopsided grin was the only thing keeping you from ruining the moment.

He had to know. He had to. 

"I’ve been having dreams about us,” you whispered hoarsely. “They feel real.  _Very real_.”

At your words, his eyes opened a little further. A frown tilted at his lips from the sheer worry on your face. 

“What kind of dreams?” He sat you back down on the floor and watched you carefully. 

You finally looked up at him, all seriousness on your face. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”


	6. Crazy Love | Stefan Butler

* * *

“You ready, love?” 

You turn around to the sound of the voice, eyes finding those of your significant other’s. He stands idly by your bedroom door while his head leans casually on the frame. In one hand, he holds his duffle, and in the other, he lets his fingers drum on the wooden exterior, a non-existent tune, one you aren’t familiar with. He smiles at you, warm and lighthearted, his eyes reflecting the mood you are in. 

“Almost,” you croon before walking over to him and giving him a kiss. 

He immediately leans into you, his body reacting to you before his lips have the chance to. With an eagerness only a puppy dog could muster, he reaches up to cup both of your cheeks as the bag he held in his hand falls promptly to the floor beneath you. His hips curve into you, bucking as if you were some sort of magnet. 

He hums into the kiss, and you smile coyly. “N-Now, are you–” he inhales and tugs on your lower lip, “–ready?”

“Mm, ready.” Grinning like a fool, you pull away from him, your essence leaving him craving more. You watch with adoration as he fails to open his eyes as quick after your lips left his, but you laugh lightly instead. 

His eyes blink open slowly, and you are reminded of how much his beauty is entirely raw and surreal. He smiles affectionately down at you, and you want to fly high, to soar above the clouds, to do possibly anything you had the power to. 

He wraps his hand around yours, and picks up the bag with ease, “Let’s go before my dad tries to sneak another picture of us together.”

-

-

-

When you reach the lake house, you are already familiarizing yourself with its surroundings. You notice the wooden posts that stand directly in front of its entrance, how the stepping stones are littered with footprint engravings of Stefan’s family members. There are various flowers ranging from white lilies to dandelions, to daisies. Tall ominous trees beleaguer all around, painting a picturesque setting. It’s all  _very_  serene. At the end of the pathway sits a heart-stopping two story lake house with an all synthetic stone wall exterior safe for the ginormous windows that encompass half of it. And the lake itself flows wonderfully behind it with alluring blue waters and stone pebbles.

You take a minute to admire the scene before you, eyes enlarging with awe. 

Ahead of you, stands your boyfriend, having barely noticed of your absence. He turns around, panicked, but relaxes when his eyes land on you. A certain lovesick expression takes over his face, and he blushes as if an intimate thought passes through his mind. 

He rolls his shoulder and gestures to the house behind him. “C’mon.”

With another lingering glance at what surrounds you, you trudge along back to his side. He wraps his free arm around you, pulling you close for comfort. It doesn’t bother you at all; someone like Stefan makes it truly difficult to let go of. He tends to stick to your side whenever he can, always keeping a hand on your waist, or interlocking his fingers through yours. He finds you absolutely terrifying and compelling at the same time.

 “It’s warm, I think we should eat outside tonight.” You speak as Stefan reaches for the keys in his pocket. 

“As you wish.” He replies, opening the door wide so you can walk inside.

You don’t have much time to react to the interior design of the house before he’s sweeping you off your feet and into his arms, bridal style.

“Stefan!” You squeal, your luggage falling to the floor.

He carries you with ease, and twirls you in his arms, his feet dancing to an imaginary tune. The same tune he had been tapping along on your doorframe earlier. 

He hums, the melodic sounds echoing throughout the house, bouncing peacefully off the cream-colored walls. There isn’t a negative thought in his mind as he takes you on the grand tour with you securely in his arms.

“You don’t have to carry me–”

“No, shh, you’ll ruin the moment.” 

You scoff, but keep your hand pressed to his chest. “What moment–”

“Shh, just wait.” Finally, he sets you down, but as you go to open your mouth, the distant musical symphony of Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love” plays in accordingly in the background. 

You notice the speakers sitting at every corner of the living room, harmonizing with one another. It’s almost too soothing, and for a minute you wonder if this is even real.

An overwhelming shyness consumes you, and you glance over at the culprit. He stands there, a charming smile rising onto his lips, reflecting in his eyes. There’s a light pink that touches his cheeks, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before–  _shockingly_ – twirling you into his arms. 

He anchors you into him, and you crash against his chest with an audible  _oof_. By the looks of it, this boy is doing everything in his power to make you believe in fairy tales because in this moment that is all you can think of. In the sweet, sweet essence of his eyes, you see the stars, the ocean, and your smile. It’s true and sincere and now your heart has a whole new reason to beat. 

Soft eyes, soft touches, soft lips. Stefan Butler truly is the epitome of magic. 

“So,” he twirls you around once more, and pulls you back into him, swaying to the music.

You shy away by burrowing your face into the crook of his neck, heat infusing your already warm cheeks. “So?” 

“What do you think?”

“I think you outdid yourself this time, Butler.”

“But that’s… a  _good_  thing, right?”

You kiss his neck, “Definitely.”

 


	7. Until the Clock Strikes | Stefan Butler

_DAYS  HOURS  MINUTES  SECONDS_

_0           0              05              21_

The timer on your wrist ticks with anticipation, seemingly in sync with the erratic beat of your heart. It’s thundering. The sound you hear deep inside of your chest is anything but a reminder of your panic, it is purely there to whisper of new beginnings, to croon and beam and cause a permanent curve of your lips. You’re sure this will be the moment that everything will change despite already knowing it will, despite the obvious. 

The ticking of your clock echoes through your head, it sears into your bloodstream. It coils and churns and heaven knows you are only in the heavy line of fire. 

Change is a good thing, you think. It’s merciful, refreshing, tranquilizing. There is so much you can achieve in the bubble of change. You can become a different person, watch the ones you care about become something else, something entirely heartfelt and sincere, and yes sometimes even harsh and deprived of what you are willing to offer. 

_DAYS  HOURS  MINUTES  SECONDS_

_0           0              02              10_

Time is something to preserve, to keep in the palm of your hand, to remember all of the things you did and will do or to remember the things you had once forgotten all about. Time is a treasure. Time is surrendering in the most innocent ways, yet time can take and take and take and sometimes it can become too much. 

But not now. Not in this moment. 

Not here. 

Not when you are about to meet the one person you are destined to live with for the rest of your life. To live and to love and to cherish. You know, in this moment, that everything you ever wished for is going to come true. 

You will meet your soulmate, you will merge with your other half and in time you will become whole once again. 

It’s funny how time works.

Life is funnier. 

_DAYS  HOURS  MINUTES  SECONDS_

_0           0              0              35_

You look down at it once more, eyes alight with an insufferable amount of yearning. With a deep and awaited breath, you exhale and let your eyes flicker over to the sound of a jingling bell. It sounds from above the entrance door to the book store, a chime, a melodic omen that will soon consume your doubts and fears and replace them with reliance and fearlessness. 

A mop of brown hair catches your eye, and time slows down just enough for you to hear the timer on your wrist come to a stop with an audible  _tick_. 

Curiosity lights up in your eyes, and you watch the mop of hair disappear behind the isle in front of yours. Immediately, you follow the sound of his footsteps, the light _pitter-patter_  becoming something of a lullaby to your ears. You can hear his breathing, how utterly calm it is, how it sounds and reflects the dull _thump thump thump_  of his heart. 

Your eyes scan through the book stands, catching sight of skimming fingers as they glide softly over the edges of books. His hands look gentle, you can already picture holding his hand in yours. 

He stops and so do you, his hand settling on a book that is hidden from your sight. You take this time to stand on your tiptoes and try to search for his face. The first thing you come into contact with are his lips; pink and kissable, you can imagine. He bites on his lower lip after his tongue darts out to wet it, and you swoon. 

Before your eyes can look away, his hand freezes halfway from pulling the book out. You realize that the time on his wrist has caught his attention, and suddenly you forget how to breathe. 

He knows you’re here. He can feel it. 

Wild green eyes flash from his wrist to the end of the isle, and then they move quickly to scan the other side of the isle. His heart drops down to his stomach and he inhales sharply, desperation to find you heavy on his shoulders. 

You are paralyzed. 

Something has you frozen to the ground, unable to move, to prompt your appearance–  _you want to move_.

“Where are you?” You hear from the other side, voice feeble and raspy. It sounds like an angel’s hymn, something with the power to lull you into a peaceful slumber, yet have you cling to it as much as you can. 

Your lips part open, and somehow, you are unable to speak. Something feelings like it has lodged into your lungs, preventing you from calling out to him. 

**_(”Here. I’m right here–”)_ **

You remain silent, but your heart does not. 

It’s what lures him to you, and soon you find yourself staring deep into those green eyes. 

Suddenly, green is your favorite color. 

He stands in front of you now, eyes scanning your figure with calculated movements. His eyes dart from one side of your face to the other and with every little discovery about you, his lips curve up and up, and up and up–

“Found you.” 

And you allow yourself to breathe properly before letting him take your breath away. 

“You found me.” 

He smiles and so do you, and yet still, you are millimeters apart. It feels as if he’s oceans away from you and to cure this ache in the center of your chest, you need to find the strength to move your feet. 

His smile widens, now a full blown one where his flawlessly aligned teeth are visible. The sight makes your stomach erupt with the force of Poseidon unleashing full power over the seas themselves. 

“So, what do you say, Soulmate?” He takes a step forward just enough to reach up and brush a strand of your hair out from your face and tuck it tenderly behind your ear. “Are you ready for forever?” 

You are ready. 

You are _so_  ready.


	8. Jealousy is A Green Eyed Monster | Stefan Butler

Jealousy was an evil thing. 

Feeling as if the one person you cared about could possibly devote themselves to another person made life extremely unbearable. Well, at least that was how it was for Stefan. 

He watched you grow closer to his co-worker  _slash_  close friend. He’d have to admit that what you and Colin had was something you could never have with him. It hurt to think about it like that, to think about it as if Colin stole you from him, or that you simply just lost all interest in Stefan, in his presence, in his admiration for you, but that’s what it looked like it was coming down to. You laughed more with Colin. Why wouldn’t you? Colin was a funny guy– Colin was a  _great_  guy. 

Stefan hadn’t once thought of himself as a funny guy, he never could make you laugh the way Colin had. You would argue on the fact, and he knew you would, because that was just how you were. You were the way you were and that was one of the reasons why Stefan was too scared to lose you to someone as brilliant and kind-hearted as Colin. 

He knew your weakness in your lovers. 

You preyed on their kindness and delicate touches. 

It was your venom and you inhaled it with every last bit of strength you could. 

It was late when you arrived back at home, the home you and Stefan occupied together, slept together, loved together. A dull sort of sensation lingered in your chest when you shut the door and turned around only to be met with your boyfriend’s accusing glare. 

He leaned idly on the counter behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. If his expressions weren’t so vivid, you’d be able to see the certain anxiety veiled behind those incriminating green eyes. 

“Hey, lo–”

“Where’ve you been?” Were his first words; flat and wearisome. You’d know that tone anywhere, you’ve heard it before. 

Shedding your coat, you swallowed thickly and then moved to sit your keys down on the counter beside him. You stepped back and examined his demeanor with trepidation, seeing the tired, lethargic look in his eyes. 

“I told you I had to work the late shift, darling.” You smiled, clearing your throat. “Colin gave me a ride here.” 

His face ruggedly hardened, his irises grew wide and the color of them seemed to darken. A dreary laugh tumbled past his lips as he uncrossed his arms, keeping them at his sides while he flexed and fidgeted with his fingers. 

“Of course he did!” He threw his hands up, his voice rising slightly. You flinched but stayed silent. “What else did he do? Give you a kiss goodnight? Huh? Is that what you’ve been doing these past two weeks while I’ve been sitting here and worrying about you? Fucking my best friend?”

Something impulsive struck you and before you could stop yourself, your hand went harsh and quick against his cheek. The impact of your slap caused his head to jerk to the side, his cheek red and irritated, most definitely stinging and throbbing from your violent strike. 

“I can’t believe you would think that!” You shouted, your voice a clamor through the deafening silence that surrounded you. 

His eyes move to meet yours, and you can see the tears threatening to fall, but he’s strong. He doesn’t let them fall. Not yet. 

“Just say it, (Name). You love him.” 

It was your turn to laugh, the oncoming of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. There was this sinking feeling in your chest now, along with an overbearing amount of distrust that loomed dangerously there. 

“You’re a fucking prick, Butler. I can’t–”

“And you’re a liar,” he cut you off, his voice steadily lowering. “I see the way he looks at you, and it’s pathetic how obvious it is.”

“How obvious what is, Stefan? He’s a friend– nothing more, nothing less! Get over yourself.” 

“He’s in love with you, for fuck’s sake!” He shouted, this time raising his arms up to signify his distress, his exhaustion. 

Your face dropped, all color disappearing. A warning flare fired off in your head, corrupting you with anxiety, with irritation. You couldn’t believe the words that spewed past his lips, how destroyed he sounded when he whispered those  _lies_. 

They had to be lies. 

_They had to be._

Colin wasn’t in love with you. He couldn’t be. He had Kitty, a child– a  _family_. He couldn’t possibly be in love with you. 

“No, you’re wrong. You–”

“Don’t  _lie_  to me.” He took a step forward, his voice breaking. 

“I’m–” your face twisted, expressing your disbelief. “I’m not lying to you!” 

He remained silent. 

You could see the slight quiver of his bottom lip and noticed the sincere melancholy through his actions. His demeanor had shifted immensely, going from feeling the anger boil within his blood to there being this numbing desperation that would spill over at any minute. You had never seen him so vulnerable before, you never thought anything like this would happen. 

You didn’t think there’d be a day where Stefan Butler would stop trusting you. It felt worse than any physical pain you have ever endured. 

Tears obscured your vision, and you exhaled with the force of someone yanking a piece of metal from your chest. He doesn’t trust you, he doesn’t trust you,  _he doesn’t trust you_.

Despite being familiar with his insecurities, and knowing how it would make him feel, you never would have imagined losing his trust in the process. 

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.

“How can I?” He croaked, a lone tear sliding down his cheek. He didn’t bother in wiping it away, he didn’t have the strength to do so, not when he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“If we don’t have trust,” you murmured, all feeling fading from you, leaving behind this destructive, numbing ache. “We have nothing.”

He couldn’t say anything in that moment. 

And that was your answer. He confessed without words, but with one look alone. He was sad. Maybe he knew he messed up or maybe it was simply because he truly believed you would hurt him in such a cruel way. 

But for now you were giving up the fight. 

Nothing was more sad than giving up a fight you were bound to lose from the beginning. 

You sighed, grabbing your keys and coat and stood emotionless at the front door. With your hand on the doorknob, you found that even if he did apologize, you would forgive him. It was just the way you were. 

“I’ll be by to pick up my things tomorrow,” you whispered, opening the door. “Bye, Stefan.” 

Aside from the heartbreaking sniffles and labored breathing, he said nothing. 

Maybe this was for the best.


	9. Infinitely Yours | Colin Ritman

His hands, needy and tender, dance across your skin, skim beneath the shirt you stole from him. His lips are like heaven and hell all in one and you can’t help but let them devour the sweet, sweet spot below your pulse. It beats heavy and loud in your ears, and the only sound that seems able to lure you out of this hypnotic daze is the honeyed words he speaks to you in a hushed tone.

You feel him smile against your neck, the corners lifting, lifting, lifting–

“(Name), are you here? You went off in la-la land once more, haven’t you?” There is a teasing tone in his voice, but he is still too pure to speak them in higher volumes.

“Oh, come off it, Ritman.”

He chuckles and it vibrates against your back, resonating through you. You can’t help but lean further into his chest, his warmth spreading all over your back, your arms, and your hands as his fingers curl around yours. 

“Did you hear a word I said?” 

“Yes.” You lie, a giddy feeling crawling up your chest. 

“Liar.”

“Am not.” 

“Alright then, what’d I say?”

His words are daring yet tender because that is all he ever is with you. The warm amusement in his voice is enough to make you grin, and you subtly squirm in his embrace. The mattress below you sinks, and before you can look to see why, Colin’s hands leave yours and paw at your sides. 

“I…”

You can picture the cogs ticking in his head, you know what his plan is. You also know that he will execute it with perfect, playful reasoning. Which is why you are on the edge of the bed, ready to dart away at any given moment because you  _know_  him. You know the poor sap more than you think you do.

His fingers start out tender, softly prodding at the flesh that is covered by one of his button ups. It’s a sensitive spot, and you are hesitant with his exploration, slowly letting him think he has you caged in his arms.

“Come on then,” he whispers in your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe which momentarily takes your mind away from his devious fingers as they glide up and down your sides. “Tell me what I said.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks, face feeling hot from the tension. 

“What I said was that,” his breathing changes, it hitches for a reason beyond you. “We should get married.” 

For a split second, you feel your heart slow down and then drop down to your stomach. You don’t allow yourself to panic by his words, and instead you stealthy slip from his hold and dart out of his door.

Colin, who sits half-naked on his bed, watches you sprint out of his room. A lovesick expression takes a permanent position on his face, and he jumps from his spot, heart leaping at the sound of your joyous laughter throughout the apartment. 

“What are you doing?” He laughs at the mischievous intentions you bore on your face. 

You darted behind the island counter, breath coming out in sporadic puffs. Your eyes find his across the room, and he stands with his arms crossed over his bare chest. That boyish, lopsided grin makes butterflies consume your stomach within milliseconds and you take in a desperate breath of air.

“Running from you, Romeo.”

He scoffs at the use of the nickname despite the affection that laces it. “Marry me.”

You notice the dreamy, starry-eyed look he has and tilt your head, analyzing him with wide eyes. You try to see if there’s any sort of semblance of a fallacy, but all you are met with is pure sincerity.

He takes a step forward, careful yet somehow not subtle enough for you to overlook. This prompts you to tiptoe around the kitchen, eyeing him a fragile curiosity. 

You want to ask him if he’s sure if it’s really what he wants, but the words that come tumbling out of your mouth are uncontrolled. “Gotta catch me first, cowboy.” During the split second it takes you to make your move, you capture the gaiety that flashes across his face and that is enough to encourage you to run faster.

When you reach the edge of the couch, he stands at the other, breathing heavily. His eyes twinkle with adoration, and one side of his lips curl up. “Marry me,” you shake your head, smile widening. He heaves an exaggerated sigh, “Bloody  _hell_ , woman. Just marry me, already!”

“Is that an order, Captain?” You quirk an eyebrow, and dart to the side, but stop halfway when he follows your movements with precision. 

“Yes!” He throws his arms up, exasperated. His eyes are wide and hopeful behind his large rimmed spectacles.

You pretend to contemplate it over in your head and smirk. “Hmm, nope.” When his face falls, you giggle and take this as your opportunity to run back to the bedroom, but before you can make it two feet from your previous position, he tackles you to the couch.

Your laughing, loud and unladylike and to most, it would be viewed as obnoxious, but to Colin, it’s music to his ears. Even as you struggle underneath his weight, or as you snort because he keeps trying to suppress his laughter and the sight of it is amusing.

He bites on his lower lip to prevent the bubbly, childlike noises from escaping him, but with you it’s always so easy to be himself, to act so carefree. In this moment, he realizes that he is so irrevocably, foolishly, and undoubtedly in love with you. 

“You  _will_  marry me, (Name) (Last name).” He promises, the sweet timbre of his voice causing your heart to thud animalistically in your chest. 

“Oh, I will?” You whisper, breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He says matter-of-factly, that stupid grin making an appearance for the thousandth time. 

“What makes you think that?” You tempt, bringing your legs up and over his waist, interlocking your legs together. You want to pull his face closer, but Colin has his hands locked securely and weightlessly around your wrists as they lay pinned to the spot on either side of your head.

“Because you love me just as much as I love you,” he praises with a pleased look, and ever so quickly leans down to press a sweet kiss to your nose. He pulls back, noticing the way you followed his every move, doe-eyed and helpless. “And I know–”

“You’re wrong.” 

He stares down at you, face falling instantly at your words. Shaking his head, he parts his lips to protest, but you don’t let him get another word in before you’re talking again.

“I love you more than there are stars in the galaxy, more than I love reading or singing. I love you beyond that. I love you more than anything and no words in this bloody universe can describe the way you make me feel.”

He is absolutely  _speechless_.

“So,  _yes_ – you  _are_  wrong because not even I can tell you how much I love you.” By this point, you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you can feel the heaviness in your chest from how deeply you spoke. 

For a silent moment, you think you might have gone a little overboard just from the expression on his face; the sheer awe, the glazed, puppy dog look in his eyes. Even from behind his glasses, you can see the effect your words had on him.  

One tear slides down his cheek, and before you can untangle yourself from him to wipe it away, he is smiling down at you–  _no_ – he’s beaming like a  _madman_. 

“That’s a yes then,” he laughs between sniffles, ignoring the tears that cascade down his cheeks.

“Yes, you maniac,” you giggle, and when he finally releases you, you cup both of his cheeks and kiss him soft and slow. “Yes, yes, yes,  _yes_.”


End file.
